


Wish We Could Start Again

by sethceith



Category: South Park
Genre: Gang Violence, Lots of sex to come, M/M, Mentions of Cartman/Kenny, Probably not really but they're not together in the first chapter so whatever, Slow Burn, also possible cartman/kenny but i dont know yet, kind of??, mentions of bunny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-11-29 13:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18223883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sethceith/pseuds/sethceith
Summary: Kyle is happily married to Stan for a few years, but he's always lonely when Stan goes out of town for weeks at a time. He spends his free time tutoring and wishing he wasn't so lonely until he gets a message from Kenny; it had been years since they talked, and even longer since they'd broken up, but that old yearning returned full force when he invited Kenny over.basically, Kenny's a horny bastard still in love with Kyle and Kyle's a bit of a thot for his ex bf





	1. On My Mind Again

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I haven't written fanfic in years and this is my first ever South Park fic, so constructive criticism is totally welcome!! This hasn't been beta-read either, and I'm sure there's some issues with mixing tenses. This is based off a thread I have with my partner, and while I write in past tense, I tend to rp in present, so basing it off the thread has it a little bit wonky probably.

        Kenny hadn’t seen Kyle or Stan in a few years. The last time they’d even talked was at their wedding, Kenny struggling through being Kyle’s best man as well as he could, but it had been too much. He’d loved Kyle since high school, always taking pride in being Kyle’s first everything-- First love, first fuck, and first breakup. That last one never felt so good, especially once he realized he’d been left for Stan of all people. Stan fucking Marsh. Kenny had tried holding onto that friendship like he used to, but it was never the same, the blond slowly beginning to drift more and more from the group as time went on. It hurt to even see them sometimes, a feeling he’d hoped would go away, but of course never did by the time he got a wedding invitation.

        It took everything he had not to drag Kyle into a closet and ruin that pretty little tuxedo right before the wedding. The idea of his taste being on Kyle’s lips for his first kiss as a married man was hard for Kenny to let go of, even after the wedding, and a secret pleasure of his a couple nights.

        It was almost a blessing that Kyle and Stan moved after the wedding, giving Kenny a reason not to visit as much. He himself had moved, living a little bit outside of town, starting up his own… business. That’s what he’d always called it whenever Karen or Kevin asked about it, and it was a much easier cover up. In truth, he’d began before he even left South Park, using his parent’s garage to make and sell meth. He’d only used it a few times, decided it scared him too much-- he couldn’t do that to Karen especially, she would be so upset. It didn’t stop him from selling it, eventually getting into selling anything. Pills, weed, heroin, just about any drug you had a name for, he had a price for. He’d built up a name for himself pretty quick, but he wasn’t the leader yet, and didn’t plan to be as long as he lived in town. He finally got lucky after a few years, busting his ass, getting shot and stabbed, but it wasn’t until he’d killed twice that he realized exactly what he was leading-- a gang.

        It wasn’t a fun realization, but he was finally making money. Actual money. Enough that, shortly after his mom died, he was able to put his siblings in a decent house just outside of town. It felt better that way, knowing they were safer than being in that batshit town, and it was less stress when he’d go for a visit. He didn’t visit too often, though, afraid of getting his siblings dragged into all of this. He’d made enemies, plenty of them, and they were all that mattered in his life anymore.

        Until he lost his last bit of self control.

        Like most nights, Kenny was a little bit high and a lot bored, when Facebook decided to show the worst thing it could-- the “you might know” section. Right there, first face, Kyle Broflovski-Marsh. The hyphenated name made him angry and jealous, a feeling he never liked, barely taking time to reel it back in before messaging Kyle for the first time in years.

 **[Kenny McCormick, 11:43 pm] Hey Kyle! Been a few years. I moved out of town a few years ago and apparently we’re closer than I thought. I was thinking I should come over and catch up soon? Miss you, dude**.

        He’s nervous as soon as he sends it, and even more nervous that Kyle doesn’t even open it until the next day. He stays up late that night, knowing Kyle wasn’t answering because he was asleep but hoping desperately for a response, eventually passing out a little past 3. He wakes up late, his head pounding in time with someone’s fist on the door, groaning and holding a hand to his head as he answers the door.

        “Kenny, dude, where the hell were you? We had shit to do this morning!” Eric Cartman’s voice could get on his nerves like nothing else, especially mornings like this when he pushes past the blond and plops himself on the bed. “You can’t just pawn all this shit off on me, dude, start doing your part.”

        “Shove it,” Kenny scoffs, finding a few pain pills before he’s falling back on the bed, pillow over his face. “Quit acting like you run this and do everything, you still don’t even know the half of what you’re doing. You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you just for selling to Tweek on the side.” His words are muffled through the pillow, but just like when they were kids, Cartman hears every word just fine.

        “Then don’t leave me to deal with a bunch of stupid, cranky addicts, dude! You know I hate selling on the street.” Kenny did know that; Cartman, for how much he wanted to be in Kenny’s place, was a fucking baby. He would never last as the leader he seemed to think he was. “At least let me sell something less likely to get me stabbed. I almost got fucking stabbed.”

        Kenny laughs a bit, sitting up to light a cigarette as he lifts his shirt. Among the several tattoos he’d accumulated since high school were a multitude of scars; stab wounds, burns, bullet wounds, he’d seen it all. “It’s part of the business, dude. You wanna be me, you gotta get your ass handed to you without dying. Besides, get shot once and a pocket knife isn’t so bad compared. Especially when they wimp out and leave it in you, then you don’t start gushing until you pull it out.”

        The blond sighs, lighting a cigarette and pulling his ashtray off the side table and in front of him on the bed as he finally checks his phone, heart jumping-- Kyle had replied.

**[Kyle Broflovski-Marsh, 9:32 am] Hey dude! It’s been years, we’ve missed you! You haven’t even come to see the new house yet. Stan’s out of town on business for the next week and a half, and you know I hate being alone. You should come over soon, I can send you the address whenever!**

        Suddenly Kenny couldn’t do it. He may hate Stan for stealing his boyfriend, but that didn’t change that they used to be best friends. If he went over there there was a strong chance Kenny would be ruining their marriage, or at least opening up the possibility. And as tempting as it was, he’d have to think about it, setting his phone aside and offering the cigarette over to Cartman.

        “Dude, did you not hear a word I said? You’re staring at your phone like someone told you they’re having your stupid baby,” Cartman snaps, taking the cigarette anyway. Kenny had started rolling his own, lacing it with weed, and Cartman liked it more than he would admit.

        “Sorry, sorry, just some more business to take care of.” The lie worked, because it could’ve easily been true. He was constantly busy with this shit, especially since he’d gotten more guys to work for him. The more people under him, the more shit he had to clean up to keep his name away from the FBI, and goddamn did he have some messes to clean. “Look, you wanna be in charge so fucking bad, I’ll let you be. Everyone’s gonna answer to you for a few days while I go out of town.”

        The look on Cartman’s face was almost comical as he handed the cigarette back over, Kenny rolling his eyes as he takes another drag, looking around the little apartment instead of at the brunette. He’d wanted to run this for so long his joy was almost palpable, and it was obvious he didn’t realize this was a test run-- or an excuse. He was going out of town, that was for sure. Kenny doesn’t hear his response once it finally comes, just staring at the text again, trying to find any reason not to go. But his mind was set, rolling the cigarette slowly between his finger and his thumb. He’d go tonight, waste no time. No, that would seem desperate-- tomorrow.

[ **Kenny McCormick, 1:34 pm] Sounds good, dude. I’ll see you tomorrow? Just give me an address and a time to show up. Looking forward to it**

        This was a bad idea. A terrible idea, actually; going to visit his married ex boyfriend that he’d been hung up on for years? Even if he tried to play it cool, the second Kyle seemed to miss him Kenny knew he’d be all over him. Still, he stares down at the messages, taking another slow drag as Kyle reads it. And just like that, he has an address.

        “Tomorrow around noon I’m heading out, I’ll tell everyone they answer to you. You shoot one of my guys for any goddamn reason and I’ll return the favor,” Kenny warns, grabbing the ashtray as he stands, going to make a pot of coffee. “I’ll be gone a few days, you clear anything and everything with me, do you understand? I’m not about to go down and lose everything because you’re over eager to run this shit.”

        It’s not hard to get Cartman back to his childlike whining, falling back on the bed and huffing. “But Kenny! If I’m in charge, I should be in charge!” He argues, crossing his arms.

        “No, do you hear me? Every goddamn thing is run by me, Eric. If anyone’s in trouble with you, they’re in trouble with me, you hear me? I’m taking care of messes until I trust you.”

        The argument goes on only for a few more minutes, just long enough for Kenny to drink his coffee and throw Cartman his apartment keys before leaving. He had a little bit of business to take care of before he left, though he couldn’t deny he was distracted the whole time. The whole day seems to drag on before he’s finally back at his apartment, and of course Cartman is still there. He was there most nights to avoid sleeping back at his mom’s house, and though they never talked about it, it was obvious that he was embarrassed to still be living at him. He’s asleep in the bed already, Kenny setting his gun on the counter before going to shower. It’s hard, terribly hard, but he finally falls asleep on the couch; the sound of Cartman’s snoring somehow had become something almost comforting, though Kenny isn’t sure how. He’d had his own room in his parent’s house, got this apartment alone, but maybe having someone else here just made it feel more like home.

        He’s up earlier than he planned, before his alarm even goes off, deciding he could leave a little early. He throws on whatever clothes are lying around, tossing a few more in a backpack, only doing a quick once-over before he’s throwing his shit in the car. He was in high school again, giddy with excitement to go see the redhead. But instead of a beat up truck with only one opening door and the tattered parka, he was in a nice car with a new, not used, leather jacket. Definitely better than it used to be.

        He’s at Kyle’s house right before noon, doing a quick once-over in his rear view mirror before he’s out of the car, knocking on the door. Well, here goes nothing.


	2. So Much Left To Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi this chapter is super dialogue heavy bc of a lot of catching up between them, enjoy!

“Kenny!” Kyle still sounds so much like he did in high school, but the excitement is a different tone; Kenny can’t blame him, but hearing the lack of real love in his voice stings a little. Still, Kenny grins, holding Kyle close as he’s pulled into a hug. Kenny ended up the tallest out of all of them somehow, his face buried in Kyle’s curls. God, he missed those, too. 

“You sound pretty happy for a man whose husband is out of town,” He teases, laughing and pulling away from the hug after a moment. “How’d that happen anyway? You two were inseparable even before you got engaged.” 

“You know how it is, he gets a job and works his way up the ladder, and suddenly he’s across the world just to spoil me.” Kyle laughs a little bit, tucking a stray curl behind his ear and stepping aside to let Kenny in. He hadn’t seen Kenny since the wedding, before he had any money, taking in his changed appearance for the first time. The blond doesn’t even notice, sitting himself on the couch. 

“Still, amazing to me. You’re the clingiest person I know, but that’s always been a good thing. Anyone would be lucky to have you there constantly.” The words make Kyle’s face go warm, sitting on the other side of the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. He looked good, despite looking a little more domestic than he ever had; gone was the bright orange jacket, replaced now with a sweater, though the muted colors looked just as good on him. “Well, maybe not the clingiest,” He amends, thinking for a moment. “Butters was real clingy, but that wasn’t bad either. Just I like soft, clingy boys.” 

“Dude, you dated Butters? Wouldn’t have pegged him for your type,” Kyle says, resting his chin on his knees as he looks at Kenny, trying to take in everything. The way his eyes darted around between all the tattoos and piercings, just the visible ones at that, Kenny really couldn’t get enough of it. Suddenly he was back in high school, back when Kyle would lay in bed with him, taking in every little scar and scratch and bruise and loving him anyway. He swallows, trying to clear the thought from his mind as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, he was kind of a rebound. I still feel bad about it. We didn’t last too long, only about two months after your wedding I think? He was still living in town, though. I moved out a long time ago, couldn’t stand that fucking place.” It wasn’t his proudest choice, really. He tried so hard to love Butters, but they just didn’t work, always leaving Kenny feeling a little bit guilty. 

“He’s happy enough, you didn’t do too bad for him y’know.” Kyle reaches out an arm, rubbing Kenny’s knee gently. “He seems happy at least. Posts all the time, it’s impossible to not know how he’s doing.” 

“I guess, I’m not active enough to really see. I pretty much only have an account to message people.” He kicks off his shoes, pulling his own feet onto the couch now to face Kyle better. “Makes sense you’re on enough, you don’t have shit to do for weeks at a time. That’s the dream.” If only he could leave shit up to Cartman for a few days every now and then, get an actual break, but that was impossible. He definitely wasn’t ready. 

“Hey! I do plenty! I’m a tutor, and I could be a teacher if I wanted. I just like being at home.” Kyle laughs, nudging Kenny playfully. “What are you doing anyway? Haven’t heard from you since you were working odd jobs, but odd jobs don’t cover your new look. That’s like, hundreds of dollars in tattoos.” 

“Started a small business with Cartman, so really, I started a business myself. Fatass doesn’t really know what he’s doing still, he just needed a fall back when he dropped out of vet school. I swear if he tries getting me to take care of one more fucking stray I’ll kill him.”

“He had like, eight cats when we moved. Is he still living with his mom? Almost makes me feel bad for him, then I remember who he is.” Kyle grins, standing up and stretching, and oh God if it isn’t a tease the way his shirt rides up a little. This was an awful idea. “You want a drink? It’s the middle of the day so no shame in it.” 

“Yeah, definitely.” He doesn’t mean to answer so eagerly, laughing a bit and standing himself. “You guys got whiskey?”

“We should. Stan’s got a pretty decent liquor cabinet now.” He heads to the kitchen, Kenny purposefully lingering behind just enough to really enjoy the view. “He used to drink a little too much, I still think we shouldn’t have anything at all, but he’s got it under control now.”

“Can’t judge a man for his vices. Speaking of, I’m gonna go out for a smoke.” He needs to settle his nerves, change his focus from jumping on Kyle as soon as they were back to the couch. 

“Patio’s right out there, I’ll be out once I get some drinks for us?” He glances back to see Kenny nod, smiling a little as he grabs some glasses. He himself wasn’t having the easiest time, especially with Kenny’s new appearance. He always was pretty, but all those tattoos… that was something he didn’t know he was into until now. He takes his time with his own drink, never one for anything straight, though he mixes it a little stronger than usual before bringing them out to the patio. “Whiskey for you, and a screwdriver for me,” He says, sitting across from him and sipping his own. 

“Oh, perfect. You know the way to a man’s heart, Broflovski.” He purposefully leaves off the last half of his name, blowing smoke through his nose as he leans back in the chair. Stan had done pretty well for himself, these were actually comfortable for a patio set. “So, suburban town for you guys. You miss home a little bit?” 

“Oh, please. South Park was never suburban and you know it, too much weird shit happened in that town. But I do miss home sometimes. I don’t even visit as often now that Ike’s got a decent car and likes driving. He comes like, once a week for lunch or something. He’s busy as hell with classes though.” 

“How’s he doing? I haven’t seen him since the wedding either, and I didn’t really talk to him much.” 

“Oh, he’s doing great. He’s got himself a little girlfriend, he’s doing good in classes, and he’s looking for an apartment now. He’s gonna be just fine, I’m excited to see him graduate soon. You should come.” 

Kenny falls silent for a moment, sipping his whiskey slowly. It had been a long time since Kyle had invited him anywhere, and even longer since he’d done so without asking Stan if it was okay. Kyle always did love his dates, but he loved his friend group too much to avoid a third wheel most of the time. Finally he nods a little, smiling over at him. “Sounds good, yeah. Just give me a date and I’ll make sure I can do it,” He promises, smile growing as Kyle grins. 

“Good! I mean, he loves you, dude. He was ready to call you his brother in law.” He immediately regrets it, looking away and sipping his drink again. He did love Stan, of course he did, but something about Kenny never went away. Something about him was impossible to replace, but he’d buried that deep for years. He couldn’t stand to look at Kenny, to see if he felt the same. 

“I was ready to call him mine.” Kenny sighs, setting his drink down as he stands up to finish his cigarette, walking around the patio. “New set? These chairs are super clean, there’s no way these have been outside for a while. He’s making good money, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah. They’re new. Our old ones just didn’t fit once we got the new table, y’know?” Kyle asks quickly, thankful for the subject change. “Stan started smoking a few years ago, got tired of sitting on plastic chairs. We don’t really use the patio for much, rarely have anyone over and he doesn’t barbeque like he used to, and I do all my tutoring in the living room.”

“Stan smokes?” It shouldn’t really be a surprise, they all knew that Stan was trying to kick his drinking habit with something else a few years ago, but it still gets him. Especially since Kyle never really liked it, Kenny didn’t smoke around him for a long time. “Well, tell him he should kick it. Nasty habit.” 

“He doesn’t smoke much, just every now and then when work stresses him out. You smoke anyway, dude, you can’t say that.” He laughs, lounging back in his chair. He’s halfway through his drink already, biting his lip as he realizes. It might’ve been a mistake, he always had been a lightweight. He wasn’t ever much of a drinker. 

“Being a smoker gives me even more reason to tell him to quit. Come on, I’m just lookin’ out for him. And you, you don’t wanna live longer than him, do you?” He teases, finishing off his small glass of whiskey, tapping the empty on the glass table a time or two before setting it down. “Wanna go back in? I could use another drink, and you look a little cold.” 

Kyle nods, standing up and grabbing both glasses before Kenny can protest, watching as the blond shoves the cigarette out in the ashtray. “Another whiskey? I’ll get it for you,” He offers, setting the glass on the counter as he grabs the decanter. He brings it out to the other, sitting on the couch with his knees in his arms once again. 

“You trying to get me drunk Broflovski?” Kenny teases, taking a sip before setting the glass on the table. “I think you saw enough of that junior prom. Got drunk enough to vomit in the punch bowl, that should’ve been your limit.” He laughs at the memory, trying to forget the last half. His truck bed, out by Stark’s pond… They weren’t the only ones with the idea, of course. It was definitely popular after prom, but that didn’t stop them. 

“Yeah, but Jimmy got a good joke out of that. He’s always good with making your stories just as funny as when they happened,” Kyle snorts, shoving Kenny a little bit. “You almost got banned from senior prom for that one, you’re lucky we got you out of there before they could prove you were drunk. Amazing you didn’t do the same shit next year.” 

“Next year they started smelling water bottles before letting anyone in,” He reminds him, sighing at the memory. “Such a shame, I was gonna get so fucked up. Your kids are gonna have great stories about me, huh?” 

“God, I wish. Stan swears he wants kids, but he’s out of town so much he doesn’t know if he’s ready. We’re not getting any younger, and I’m not gonna be sixty with a five year old. He better get on that shit,” Kyle says, frowning a little bit. He’d always wanted kids, always had the perfect idea of the perfect family. And here was Kenny, screwing with those ideas just a little bit. “I’m holding him to it. He’s got three more years to get us a kid. Adoption, test tube baby, I don’t care, I’m getting a baby.” 

“Why not a dog for now? I mean, nowhere near the same, but Cartman keeps bringing around his special needs dog. A pit mix, paralyzed back legs. He’s got a wheelchair, and let me tell you, they’re work. You could get a dog to tide you over.” 

“As if, then he’ll try to hold off on a baby for longer. No way, dude. Not unless you’re gonna get it for us.” He doesn’t mean it, not at all. Even though Kenny does have money for once, he would feel bad asking him for anything. Especially if Kenny viewed it as a form of repayment, everything he bought Kenny up through high school was something he wanted to buy him, no repayment needed. 

“I could.” It takes Kyle by surprise, looking at Kenny with furrowed brows. The blond only shrugs, smiling a little bit. “This house needs a dog, a cat, a baby, something. It’s too big for just the two of you. Well, just you most the time.” 

“Don’t start, dude, you know I’ll want a dog. Don’t give him a chance to put off a baby.” Still, he’s close to taking him up on the offer, chewing on his lip for a moment. “A small dog, maybe. Nothing too big, that way he can get his exercise inside and I only have to take him out sometimes. I hate walking through town mid-winter.” 

“Deal. Too late to back out, I’m getting you a dog.” It was low, even for him. Only partially a genuine gesture, it was mostly him trying to find an in, get a chance to have even one more night with him. He’d tried to get rid of that behavior long ago, but it stuck no matter what, if only for Kyle. He had it bad, no matter what he did. 

They talk for a while about what kind of dog he might want, what was too big, what was too yippy, eventually moving to reminiscing on high school memories. It’s tricky to avoid the elephant in the room of what they used to be, talking around it until they were both good and tipsy. Then it was a little too late, Kenny’s big mouth getting him in trouble for the first time in a while. 

“You picked the wrong one, you know.” He hates the words as soon as they leave his mouth, looking away and downing his fourth glass. “I mean, the wrong-- You know--” He sighs, rubbing his face. It was too late to fix this. He stumbles through attempts for a moment more before Kyle stops him, finishing his third (and strongest) drink. 

“There was no wrong one. You’re both it for me,” He admits, digging his nails into his palm. “I miss you, Kenny. I’ve missed you since we broke up.” It’s hard to admit, and harder for Kenny not to argue; they’d never agreed about the breakup, Kyle convinced it was mutual. But Kenny knew, he knew painfully well, that it was one sided. 

“But you’re married now. So we’re not gonna do anything. Right?” He can’t look at Kyle now, those big green eyes, freckles on his face, everything he missed would drive him to do something he would regret. But Kyle isn’t having any of it. They were already shoulder to shoulder on the couch, the alcohol making it easier to pretend it was nothing, but the redhead takes it a step further with a hand on Kenny’s thigh. 

“I’ve missed you,” He says again, lip between his teeth as he looks up at Kenny, silently begging him to look. “As much as you’ve missed me. And I know that’s a lot.” 

He still doesn’t look, knuckles white with how hard he’s clenching his fist to avoid it. He swallows thickly, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “It is,” He admits softly, playing with his tongue ring for a second as a distraction, the click against his teeth helping less than he’d hoped. “But you’re married. I don’t want to ruin anything.”

And then Kenny learns exactly why Kyle shouldn’t drink, gasping as he climbs on Kenny’s lap. He’s dreamed about this for years, but it still feels wrong. Wronger than it ever did in his head on those lonely nights. They’re silent for a moment, Kenny looking away first yet again. 

“But I miss you,” Kyle whispers, in that voice Kenny never could get enough of. It’s a goddamn nightmare, trying to stop himself now. Just as his hand moves to grip Kyle’s hip his phone rings, Kenny nearly sighing in relief. 

“Could be important, I gotta get that,” He says softly, only sneaking a quick glance at Kyle’s disappointed face before he’s off of him. He answers the phone as soon as he’s up, almost running out to the patio. It wasn’t important, not at all. He could’ve ignored it, but he drags the call out through two cigarettes to steady his nerves, but even that doesn’t work. Putting his phone on silent, Kenny finally walks back inside, taking a deep breath. 

“Tomorrow. I’m staying the night, and tomorrow when you’re sober, you decide what you want,” He says, looking down at the red-faced Kyle. “No arguments, don’t even try,” He warns, having to look away again to avoid those beautiful goddamn doe eyes.

“We have a guest bed. I’ll set up the room soon, if you want,” He says quietly, getting up and stumbling some as he takes their empty glasses to the kitchen. He stays long enough to wash them out, dry them, put them back, and then he still isn’t ready to go back in. Embarrassment, shame, fear, it all swirled in his stomach, chewing his lips until they bled for the first time in a while. He finally comes back out, trying to say something before giving up, instead heading upstairs to make sure the guest room was ready. It wasn’t late enough to say he was ready for bed, struggling to think of an excuse when Kenny walks into the room behind him. 

“I need a shower,” Kenny says softly, eliciting a small sigh of relief from Kyle. “Then I was thinking we order food and watch a movie, like we used to. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” Kyle says, almost too quickly, laughing a little bit. “Um, bathroom’s right down the hall, towels are clean. Stan and I have a bathroom in our room, so don’t worry. I’ll order us some pizzas, cheese okay?” 

“Sounds good.” He steps into the room, setting his bag on the bed and pulling out a change of clothes. “I’ll be out soon. Thanks.” He lingers for only a moment before walking past him, leaning against the wall as soon as he locks the bathroom door. This was a terrible idea, but he was going to stay. He was already here. He just had to suck it up and act normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the dialogue is just a little rusty for me, I hope this wasn't too bad! Things finally happen next chapter I promise


	3. You Know I Loved That Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle can’t get enough of the taste, one he’d missed; the taste of Kenny and smoke, the last lingering bit of liquor on his tongue too… it was just as intoxicating as the drink itself.

“Dude, this movie’s shit. Why did we used to love it?” 

Kenny laughs at the question, lounging against the couch with his takeout in his lap. The awkwardness was gone for now, successfully ignored as they watch an old Terrance and Phillip movie. It was a lot better, a lot more like they used to be. 

“Because it came out when we were in like, fourth grade. Everything was funny then,” He says, turning the TV down some so they could actually hear each other. Something about having no neighbors on the other side of a thin wall made it easier to enjoy a much too loud movie. “Come on, tell me it isn’t funny at all, even if it’s nostalgia.” 

“Okay, it’s a little nostalgic, but it’s still pretty stupid. The thing funny about it is that anyone actually liked it, though.” Kyle pushes his leftovers away on the table, leaning back into the couch now. He’d sobered up for the most part now, but as much as he tried to act normal, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Kenny had said. He may have said to wait until the next day, but that was all based on sobriety. Kyle knew what he wanted, he knew damn well. He’d thought about it almost as much as Kenny, especially while Stan was gone. Weeks at a time on his own, something everyone knew was hard on him. Kyle never was a fan of being alone, especially once he was open about his sexuality and everyone knew he was in a relationship. But he’s trying his best to behave, focusing on the movie more than he wanted to; it really was bad. 

“Yeah, whatever. We can still enjoy it.” Kenny sets his own leftovers down, groaning and resting a hand on his stomach. “God, I’m stuffed. Thanks for letting me buy dinner for once, I don’t think I ever did before. Closest I got was cans of potted meat and white bread at my house the like, one time you stayed over.”

“Hey, I never complained. I liked getting stuff for you, dude. You were my best friend. Still are,” He says softly, smiling over at him. “It never was a burden, either. I know you thought that, and I’m sure you still do, so don’t even argue. It never bothered me.” 

“It should’ve. I should’ve had a job before we graduated, but I didn’t. I’m glad you didn’t mind.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. It was a mess, he hadn’t bothered to even brush it after his shower, instead letting it do what it wanted. He hated it, but he caught Kyle staring at it a time or two, so it was worth it. “You always were a good friend.”

“Oh, it was nothing, you know that,” He says, eyes glued to Kenny’s hand fixing his hair for a moment. He’d always loved the dirty blond locks, running his fingers through them… He missed Kenny way too much for his own good. He finally looks down at his hands, playing with the hem of his shirt; the sweater was long gone, despite the cold outside. He’d only worn it in the first place because it was one of the only nice but casual tops he had. The shirt, not so much; he’d slept in a little bit, kept on an old jersey from when he played basketball in college. He hadn’t really played, just a little intramural team, but he still took pride in it. South Park’s team never was good, he actually had a real game every week. 

“Still means a lot.” He lapses into silence again, focusing on the TV. They hadn’t seen the movie since fourth grade, another one of the little gifts from Kyle. They all four wanted to see it, but Kenny didn’t have the money, as usual. And Kyle was the only one to offer to buy a ticket, even though he had to do extra chores around the house for a while. 

Kenny picks his leftovers up after a moment, picking through them despite being full; he’d never fully kicked the habit of trying to eat or save every last bite, even though he could easily afford to waste food now. But it’s not just that, he’s also trying to distract himself, eventually setting the food down once more. Then he’s nursing his glass of water, then he’s scrolling through his phone, then he’s picking at his nails, then then then… 

Then he just sits there in the moment. He doesn’t think about anything; not Kyle, not what they used to be, not what Kenny does now, just nothing. He’s fully focused on Terrance and Phillip again, realizing for the first time in years he really either needs to be a child or high out of his mind to enjoy it. But it’s easy enough to mindlessly watch, hardly even noticing that Kyle’s moved closer until there’s a slender, pale arm around him. He’s pulled from his near trance-like state, blinking a little as he looks over at Kyle, but the redhead’s eyes are closed. He always did get clingier when he was tired. Tentatively, Kenny throws an arm around him in response, smiling a little bit at the pleased hum that comes from Kyle. 

They haven’t had a moment like this in years, but it still comes so natural it isn’t even painful. Kenny was sure the slightest amount of intimacy, no matter how platonic, would be nearly excruciating. But it wasn’t, it was just… relaxing. Amazingly so. It was like nothing had ever changed between them, and with the lack of romance, it was more like freshman year. Back before Kyle knew he wasn’t straight, when they would spend hours on his bed watching stupid youtube videos, huddled together under the blanket. God, it really had been an easy choice, hadn’t it? Stan was Kyle’s super best friend, but he was dating Wendy at the time. Kenny was openly queer for years by the time Kyle came out, he’d been single for a long time, and they were almost as close as Kyle and Stan. But he was a high school sweetheart of the truest variety, his first everything, why would it have lasted? He was stupid to think he’d had a chance, stupid to assume he would last. He was there when Kyle came out to Stan, the only other person to know for the first few months of his and Kyle’s relationship, there when Stan said, “Dude, I’m bi, why would I care?” It was so obvious. Of course Kyle dumped him, of course--

He pauses, taking a breath before glancing down at the redhead again. His peaceful face, calm and just completely at ease brough Kenny back to the present, reaching the arm around Kyle to play with his hair. He was verging on something more than platonic and he knew it, but goddamn if he didn’t miss these moments. The only thing that could make this better would be the little kisses, gentle and sweet, pressed all over each other. Lips, cheeks, hands, shoulders, anywhere their lips could reach. Kyle brought out the sweetest parts of Kenny, only able to remain so soft with one other person, but he couldn’t even get close to that connection with Butters. He’d loved him, but not in the same way. Not enough, and after only a few months he had to break it off to cope with the guilt. He’s looking beyond the TV now, completely lost in his thoughts as his fingers slowly toy with red curls. There was a reason he rarely let Cartman try to run things, the same reason he stopped protesting when he would come over uninvited a few nights a week-- Kenny needed the distractions in his life. And Cartman never shut up, constantly complaining or ranting or something, and it helped. It wasn’t easy to realize, Kenny knew just how unhealthy this was, but he’d never gotten over him. Some obsession he couldn’t seem to pull out of, but if this moment proved anything, it was that it wasn’t just sexual. He craved any intimacy again, the softest touches between them, the gentle words… That’s all he wanted, for all these years. 

“I missed this.” The words are whispered into Kyle’s hair, the blond only slightly embarrassed as he breathes in; he still used the same hair products, a smell Kenny had loved since sophomore year. “Even when we were just friends.”

“Me too,” Kyle mumbles, voice a little heavy with sleep. Kenny had always made him feel safe and comfortable, and despite the fact that he knew there was something shady going on in Kenny’s work life, this was no exception. Kenny was warm, gentle, and there for him. And with the TV turned down now, it was even easier to fall asleep. But it kept Kenny up, his mind racing for a moment, then focusing on the droning of the stupid movie, then back to racing. Holding Kyle like this again was so easy he had to overthink it. Still, he doesn’t stop himself from all his old comforts. Eventually his hand moves from Kyle’s hair as the redhead shifts to lay in his lap instead of against his shoulder, instead rubbing his arm. And despite Kyle being warm, goosebumps raise under the touch, and Kenny’s heart flutters a little at the idea that he did that. 

Before long Kyle’s snoring softly, shirt riding up on his hips again as he shifts one last time to get truly comfortable. And just like that Kenny’s back in high school for real, his fingers running gently along the hem of Kyle’s shirt, ghosting his fingertips over the other’s skin. Again the goosebumps raise, but this time they’re on Kenny’s arms too, his breath soft and shuddering a little bit. He’s beautiful like this, pale and freckled and soft and so goddamn beautiful. Kenny would never do anything immoral, not with Kyle, but he was definitely thinking about it more than he should. Just small things, pulling his shirt up more, a few gentle kisses, but it wasn’t happening. The furthest he went was to press the pads of his fingers against the already exposed skin, eventually letting his hand just rest there. He zones out for the rest of the movie, his focus somewhere between the TV and the man in his lap, and it isn’t until it’s been on the title screen for at least ten minutes that he’s pulled back to reality.

“You wanna get to bed?” His voice is almost gone for the first half of the question from lack of use, Kenny clearing his throat before trying again. “It isn’t that late, but if you want, we can head to bed.” He doesn’t think too much about the words, but Kyle does, rousing only slightly from his sleep state. He lets out a laugh that turns into a yawn, rolling over so his face is buried in Kenny’s shirt, fingers digging into the material gently. 

“Mm… Only if you’re coming with me,” He mumbles, yawning again and rubbing his eyes with one hand. “I hate sleeping alone.” They both knew it was true, not just a way to stay closer to Kenny, so he didn’t bother calling him on anything. Instead he stays silent for a moment as he thinks, finally giving in. Hell, a chance to hold Kyle all night for the first time in years? He’d been waiting for this, why would he say no? 

“Okay, okay. Let me clean up for you real quick and we’ll get you up to bed,” He says, shushing any protests about “this is my house” or “you’re my guest” as he closes their takeout boxes, fitting them into the fridge. It definitely isn’t as clean as it was when he arrived, but there’s no food left on the table, their glasses in the sink, it was good enough. “Come on,” He says softly, scooping Kyle into his arms; for his little arguments, he never once bothered to get up and help. “I’ll go get my stuff from the guest room.” 

Kyle just waves him off, pulling off his shirt and nearly dragging himself to the dresser to get into pajama pants. Kenny, luckily enough, already had his pajama pants on, only taking off his shirt and throwing it on his bag, discarded in the corner. Instead of going to the bed, though, he steps over to the window, leaning the top half of his body outside as he lights a cigarette. 

“Just like in high school, huh Ken?” Kyle teases from where he was lying on the bed, yawning as he wraps the blanket around himself. “I still think Ma knew you were smoking, but I never got a smoker’s cough or smelled like it so she let it go.” 

“Please, your mom would beat my ass for smoking inside, she definitely didn’t know. I’m telling you, if you never bring it inside, it never smells inside.” He knows it isn’t true, but he’s saying it for argument’s sake, laughing a little bit to himself as he blows smoke out. It was starting to snow again, Kenny shuddering a little. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken his shirt off yet, but it was habit. He hadn’t bothered to open a window since the day he’d moved into his apartment, already knowing he would have to pay a lot in repairs for that shitty little unit. 

“Maybe she didn’t know you smoked inside, but she knew you smoked, she just didn’t say anything. You always smelled like it because of your parents, but you really smelled like it once we hit sophomore year.” Kyle’s a little more awake now, just enough to have the conversation, propping himself up on his elbow as he looks at Kenny. The moon hits him nicely, illuminating the tattoos lining his chest and arms. God, he had only gotten hotter over the years. 

“Dude, everyone knew I smoked. I didn’t try to hide it,” He says, ashing out the window and sighing. “It wasn’t easy, either, dad knew when his smokes went missing. It was just a balancing act of taking enough without starting fights in the house. He never wanted to start a fight, especially since both of his siblings lived at home until Kenny helped them get a place, always struggling to find a good balance. “Your mom just knows how to pick her battles.” 

“With you, maybe, but with me and Ike? She’s never bothered to pick and choose. That’s why we love her.” 

“She’s a good mom. I’d kill for a mom like that, dude.” He was beyond ready for Sheila to be his mother in law, always looking up to her. Even before they were dating he admired her, the way she worried about her kids so much. He always wondered what that was like, only ever feeling genuine love from his mom when he was sick or dying. 

“She loved having you around, I hope you know that. She’d still love it, wait until I tell her you’re coming for Ike’s graduation. She’s gonna throw a fucking party, I swear.” He laughs, lying back once more as Kenny flicks the cigarette butt out the window, slamming it shut. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s shaking with the cold, nearly running on his way to the bed. He presses his hands against Kyle’s shirtless chest, grinning and breaking into a laugh as he gasps and throws himself back. 

“Dude!” He shouts, though it turns into a weak laugh as he shoves him. “Don’t touch me with your cold ass hands. I hate sleeping alone but I will kick you out before I deal with that.” 

“Oh, you fucking baby, fine. Guess I won’t hold you,” He says, holding his hands under his arms as he tries to warm them. They both know he’s going to anyway, but it doesn’t stop Kyle from throwing an arm around him, pressing their bodies together. God, he was warm, Kenny humming in appreciation as he presses back against him, wrapping the blanket around himself tightly on the other side. 

“I’m not holding you all night, that’s not my job. I’m just not letting you freeze me out of the bed,” Kyle warns, pressing his toes against Kenny’s calves. Even through the fabric of his pants the toes make him shudder, though he doesn’t move, letting Kyle warm himself as well. 

“Okay, okay, don’t worry. Here, I’m warmed up, roll over.” Kyle listens without hesitation; Stan had been gone for a week and still had a week and a half to go, Kyle missed being held more than he would admit. Kenny wastes no time either, wrapping an arm around Kyle and pulling him close. If it hadn’t been for their earlier conversation, he’d worry about boundaries a little more, but he knows a little real spooning wouldn’t be too far. 

Kyle had even less concerns, though, surprising Kenny a little bit as he wiggles against him. It’s only a slight movement, but it definitely elicits a reaction from Kenny, the blond gasping softly but not pulling back. God, Kyle would be the end of him, still the same tease he always had been. They’re silent in that moment, Kyle occasionally moving a little more to hear Kenny gasp or even let out a near moan, Kenny returning the favor by letting his hands wander along Kyle’s chest. They both lose themselves in the moment, all hands and stuttering breaths, but they’re both afraid to go any further. More than once Kenny’s lips are less than an inch away from Kyle’s shoulder, but he stops himself each time, instead moving his hand down to his hips, or up to his collarbone, anywhere that’s familiar in a way it shouldn’t be, but innocent enough to quell his guilt some. 

They still haven’t spoken by the time Kyle rolls over, both of them pink-faced and panting softly; it isn’t from exertion, but rather from excitement, Kyle’s slender fingers resting on Kenny’s cheek as he looks him in the eyes. Suddenly neither of them can look away, Kyle’s eyes somehow bright green in the dimly lit room. Neither of them would be able to say who initiated come the next day, and neither would believe it was mutual, but in the same moment they decide to close the gap. The kiss isn’t as gentle as the rest of the touches, hungry and passionate and almost desperate, all teeth and tongue. Kyle can’t get enough of the taste, one he’d missed; the taste of Kenny and smoke, the last lingering bit of liquor on his tongue too… it was just as intoxicating as the drink itself, Kyle only parting when he needs a real breath. His lips are red and kiss-swollen, shiny with spit, a sight that Kenny hadn’t seen in years and didn’t intend to forget. 

It doesn’t advance much further for the night, but that doesn’t stop them from going on for a good hour. They’re all lips and teeth and hands, hungry and desperate, every breath a stolen one in the few moments they weren’t connected. Kenny eventually pulls away, though, surprised he had it in himself to stop it. His breath is ragged and his eyes are glazed over with lust, gripping the sheets to stop himself from climbing right back on top of Kyle. He licks his lips as he tries to summon the words sitting in his chest, staring up at the ceiling. 

“You’re married.” Of the millions of words swimming in his head, those were the last ones he wanted to come out, groaning softly and looking away. “I didn’t mean to say it like that, but-- We shouldn’t do this. Stan’s my friend too, I don’t-- I don’t want to cause problems.” He says the words slowly and carefully now, biting his cheek as Kyle stays silent. “I don’t regret it. I’ve wanted that for years, I just--” 

“Then don’t say anything. If you don’t regret it, don’t say anything,” Kyle finally says, looking over to Kenny, only getting frustrated that Kenny wouldn’t look back at him. “What I do is my fucking business, okay? So I get lonely while Stan’s gone, sue me.” 

Kenny sighs, rubbing his face. Kyle always was stubborn, but he used to have the same kind of savior complex that Stan had. They must’ve both lost it sometime between the wedding and now, because Kenny sure had fucking tried before. Lucky him. He thinks on it for a long moment before giving in, not saying another word before throwing himself at Kyle again, keeping his hands on his torso. He wouldn’t stop himself from this, but they weren’t going further, not so soon. Not for Kenny’s sake, of course, but for Kyle’s. 

They spend another little bit tangled together, their movements eventually going from quick and almost starving to slow and lazy as they begin to get tired. It still isn’t even considered late, but it’s been a long day for both of them. By the time they fall asleep they’re still stuck together, their once-cold bodies now sticky with a thin layer of sweat they would deal with in the morning. Before the clock even hits eleven they’re snoring in each other’s arms, faces only inches apart, arms wrapped messily around each other. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you things would finally happen but now i'm determined to have it some kind of slow burn so [shrug emoji] no fucking yet! I'm really enjoying writing this though, thanks to anyone who's reading beyond the first chapter! <3


	4. I Know You Dig That Heat

“It wasn’t goddamn mutual!”

Kenny was the first one to break the hushed argument of the morning with the shout. Their argument had started only moments after they’d woken up, a feeling of guilt and jealousy weighing on Kenny the moment he’d woken up. They’d tried to talk about their breakup a million times-- the day after, the week after, month after, even at the fucking wedding they’d argued. Kyle never once let it go further than his defiance of Kenny’s view, always ending it with a terse, _“It was mutual.”_ and refusing to say anything further. He didn’t know why anything would be different now, but it was worth a try.

“Kenny, we _agreed_ it was for the best. We weren’t working as well as we used to, we talked it out, you agreed!” Kyle argues, propped up against the headboard as he watches Kenny pace the room. Both of them clearly displayed their anger, but Kyle’s was also desperate with the need for the conversation to be dropped. He never wanted to talk about it, and especially now that he was married? Absolutely not. “I don’t know what you want from me, I--”

“I want you to admit it!” Kenny snaps, running a hand through his hair as he attempts to calm down. “Jesus fucking Christ, Kyle, you came up to me at lunch and said, and I fucking quote, ‘ _We’re just high school sweethearts, we could never last. I love you, Kenny, but I can’t be with my first boyfriend for forever.’_ That’s exactly what you fucking said!”

“You agreed with it!” He was exasperated, fingers digging into his skin as he drags his hands down his face. If it wasn’t so tense, it would almost be cute, the way he pulled at his bottom lids. Wide eyes wider, but with the atmosphere, it was nothing short of infuriating to Kenny. The balls he had, to act like he was fucking innocent, like he was being attacked-- it pushed forward a new anger in Kenny, one Kyle hadn’t seen before. One he’d learned with his new job.

“What was I supposed to fucking do?” The words are hateful, throwing a row of books from the shelf next to him to the floor as he speaks. “You dumped me, Kyle, I’m not gonna beg and cry for you to come back! I’m gonna let you leave me!”

“You _agreed_!” He says again, flinching as more books hit the ground. He’d never seen Kenny like this, swallowing thickly as he stays in bed despite his desire to move; in all honesty, he was scared of Kenny for the first time he could truly remember.

“You went to Stan’s house that night and fucked him! He dumped Wendy the same fucking day! Jesus, Kyle, I don’t know how stupid you think I am, but I know a goddamn thing or two!” Still, seeing the genuine fear in Kyle’s eyes brings him back to reality a little bit, immediately looking at the mess he’d made. Guilt once again built up in his stomach, but now wasn’t the time for that, the blond instead pulling his shirt on and searching for his jacket. “I’m done with this. I need a smoke, and when I come back, you’re either gonna tell me I’m right or I’m going home. I’m fucking sick of it, Kyle. Years, fucking _years_ of you denying! God!” He continues for a while as he pulls on his jacket, finds his phone, finds his cigarettes, and finally heads down the stairs, making sure he’s heard the whole way down. It wasn’t for anything but himself, knowing if he gave Kyle a second he would flip it so easy. Every time they had this talk Kyle cried, and every time that was the breaking point for Kenny. And it still was, even though he hadn’t seen it yet he knew damn well he’d stop the fight and just hold him with even one tear.

Again he tries to calm down over the course of a cigarette, but even with the extra help of the weed it doesn’t help. He’s slightly buzzed, digging through his pocket for the small baggie of pills he’d brought, popping one in his mouth as he goes in. And despite all his anger, he’s quiet as he goes back into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and playing with a stray thread on his worn out jeans. Neither of them speak for a moment, the only sound being the birds, the wind, and the occasional sniffle from Kyle, his nose red and eyes wet. He’d clearly been crying, and the moment Kenny finally looked at him, the rest of his fight is gone.

“It wa--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kenny says softly, cutting off what could’ve been more defiance or the actual truth. It almost hurts to not know what he would have said, but with tears in those perfect green eyes, he couldn’t complain. With a sigh Kenny moves to sit across from him, reaching a hand out and cupping his cheek, wiping at partially-dried tear streaks with his thumb. “I shouldn’t have started this morning, Kyle, okay? I’m just… Torn up about the whole thing. You should’ve been mine, but you’re not, and I’m not here to change that. I’m here because you’re my friend.”

“Would you have married me?”

The words make Kenny fall silent again, biting his lip and looking away. No, he wouldn’t have. The idea of marriage was a bad one, and though Kenny didn’t know if it was fear or just something he didn’t like, he knew he would never have a ring on his finger. Not even for Kyle. They both know the answer as they sit in silence for a long moment, Kenny finally sucking in a breath as he breaks it.

“I would’ve.” The lie rolls smoothly off his tongue, the corner of his lip twitching upwards in a small, guilty smile. “I would’ve given you anything, the life you want, the family you want, anything.”

Again they lapse into the silence of the lie, but they’re contemplating different things. Kenny’s focused on the guilt of everything, the lies and the cheating and the all of it, because he isn’t used to feeling this much guilt. He closed it off when he took charge and made a name for himself, because you can’t do what he does with a guilty conscious. It would end his ‘career’, if it could be called that, and after the years pushing down all the guilt it came up way stronger than he’d prepared for. Kyle, on the other hand, was trying desperately to convince himself it wasn’t a lie. He didn’t know why; if he could believe it, he would start to question himself more than before. But he wanted to. Wanted to believe Kenny would’ve given him everything, that he hadn’t just lied to his face. But it wasn’t enough, the redhead eventually sighing as he brought his knees up to his chest.

“No, you wouldn’t have. You had a purity ring with your girlfriend in fourth grade, and even that was a lie. And you didn’t even keep that.” Kyle pulls his lower lip between his teeth, hating the taste of blood as some loosened skin was pulled up and spit out. He’d not always had the habit, but his anxiety had to come out in some way, no matter what way that was. “Thanks for trying to help, I guess.”

Kenny doesn’t respond, toying with his phone as it rests in his lap, a distraction if he really needed it. He peels the corner of the case off, clicking it back into place, focusing on the sound as he repeats the action a few more times. He’s caught and he knows it, not wanting to make things any worse by arguing, but he’s afraid agreement would only cause another fight. He opts to wait for Kyle to speak again, despite the silence having reached an awkward, uncomfortable level, eyes set on the comforter beneath him. It has to be a solid five minutes before Kyle says anything, pulling himself out of the bed and rooting around his dresser for a change of clothes.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have asked.” He finds a random shirt, an old on of Stan’s, pulling it over his head as he digs for an actual pair of pants. “It was stupid, and I don’t know what answer I wanted, and--” His breath catches, only just realizing he was hyperventilating some, closing his eyes and trying to relax for just a moment. “Do you want breakfast? We don’t have a ton of breakfast stuff, but we have like, cereal I think? And some other stuff. I can look.”

Kenny shakes his head as he climbs out of bed himself, stretching a little bit and looking at his phone. “I’m alright, Ky. Thanks,” He says, scrolling through the multitude of texts. God, Cartman really was shit at this, no one was even bothering to go to him first. He’d have to sort things out before he left again, especially if he left for longer-- or, god forbid, he’s shot or something. “I gotta be getting home, I’ve got people to deal with, but I’ll come back sometime. I’m glad I came?” He doesn’t know why it’s a question, swearing under his breath. Of course he was glad he came, there was no doubt about that, but speaking at all felt strange right now. Saying goodbye felt even weirder, pulling his worn parka back on as he makes sure he has his stuff. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Be safe,” Kyle whispers, biting down on his lip before he’s closing the space between them, resting his head on Kenny’s chest as his slender arms wrapped around him. “I can fix a lot, but not everything, and you’ve got a habit of nearly dying.” As far as Kyle knows that’s the truth, but the pang of pain and frustration that shot through Kenny made it painfully obvious to him that he knew otherwise. In all honesty, he had very few near death experiences, many more actual death experiences. Over and over again. He’d tried to understand it through the years, but all he knew was it had to do with his parents and a cult; once his mom died, he gained a genuine fear of death for the first time. He’s silent as he thinks about it, completely unaware of his lack of attention to the moment until Kyle snaps in his ear.

“Ken? Dude, you here?” Kyle asks, the words pulling Kenny from his unfocused state. He laughs a little bit, pulling away from the hug to throw his bag over his shoulder.

“I’m good, dude, sorry. Just thinking,” He says, toying with the strap absently. “I’ll be safe, okay? I always am. Don’t you worry about me. You just try not to be too lonely without me, okay?” He teases, grinning and smacking his ass gently. The way his face goes red makes Kenny laugh a little bit, proud for some reason of the reaction it evoked.

They drag their goodbye on for a while before Kenny’s finally out the door, sitting in his car and watching the gentle falling of the snow as he lets his car warm up, shuddering and scrolling through his phone again. Most of the texts were from Cartman about what he should do, when he should do it, and finally frustration that Kenny wouldn’t respond, making him snort. It didn’t bother him as much as it should, only slightly worried about what was going on without him, ignoring the texts as he lights a cigarette. He had a nice car for once, an old one-- it may be considered classic, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t pristine anyway, the paint chipped and the interior slightly degraded, and a musty smell that lingered even through the cigarette smoke. He loved it more than he would ever admit, completely in love with it. Out of habit, he taps the dash a few times before he’s backing out of the driveway, the radio turned down low for the ride home.

He doesn’t realize how fast he’s been driving until he’s parked in front of the apartment, and then he realizes he doesn’t remember _anything_ from the drive home. It’s a scary thought, but he hadn’t been pulled over, so clearly he hadn’t done anything _unsafe_. He sighs, resting his head on the seat as he lights another cigarette, trying to find the energy to go inside. He can see Cartman’s Grand Cherokee a few parking spots down, glancing up to his window to see him glancing out. Of course he was here, why wouldn’t he be? A chance to escape his mom’s house, feel like a functioning human for a few days, he couldn’t pass it up. Of course, he could always get a place of his own, pay rent, be an actual goddamn _adult_ for once, but no one expected that for a few more years. The cigarette’s burned almost halfway down by the time he snaps back to reality, sighing as he ashes out the window and takes only his second or third drag. He didn’t really want to finish it, but he needed something to tell him when he’d been out too long. He stares at the ratty fabric on the roof of the car, counting the holes to pass some of the time. He finishes quickly, glancing at his cigarette; still a third to go. He shifts his focus, instead counting the burns, then the tears, then the spots on the windshield… He’s wasted most of the cigarette now, tossing it out the window after only five drags before he’s stepping out of the car. He stomps on the burning remnants of the smoke, shutting his car door gently as he makes his way upstairs. He lingers at the door for only a moment before he’s walking in, walking past Cartman as he falls onto the bed.

“Dude, where the hell have you been?”

Already Kenny’s grinding his teeth, the sound of his voice like nails on a chalkboard. Kenny doesn’t respond for a moment, staring at the ceiling as he listens absently to whatever stupid reality TV show Cartman had on. But he knows he has to talk sometime, rolling over to face him.

“I was with a friend,” He says simply, propping himself up on his elbow for only a second before realizing it was too much work, sighing and falling back against the not-too-soft mattress. “You told me you could handle this.”

“You told me I couldn’t deal with anyone without permission, and you never answered your phone!” Cartman huffs, grabbing one of the empty McDonald’s cups placed on the table. He spits into it before setting it back down, Kenny raising his lip a little bit in disgust; he hated dip, but he really couldn’t judge, considering his own vices. “I didn’t, by the way, but I wanted to. I mean, no one’s actually done anything you would say is wrong, but it still pisses me off.” He drones on for a while, intermittently spitting into the cup or loudly drinking from another, a disgusting display Kenny was grateful to look away from.

“Dude,” Kenny says, finally drawing an end to Cartman’s infuriating fucking rambling. “Get out of my apartment in the next hour or I _will_ shoot you. I’m back, I can handle shit, I don’t need you constantly on my fucking couch.”

“Damn, Kenny, what’s got a stick up your ass?” Eric snaps in reply, though he doesn’t bother to move from his spot on the couch. They both know he won’t bother cleaning up the mess he’d made, and even though it’d hardly been twenty four hours there was plenty of fast food garbage to deal with. “You’re the one that gave me the fucking keys. Don’t worry about that anymore, by the way, I got a copy made.”

It was the wrong time for him to say it in some ways, Kenny’s anger building in his chest at the thought-- he didn’t say he could make a key, didn’t say this could be some kind of goddamn _vacation home_ \-- but he swallows it down. He hardly moves as he glances to his side, trying to calculate the distance between himself and the ashtray set on his bedside table, eventually deciding it was close enough as he lights another cigarette. He would need to roll more soon, but he had almost no energy for that right now, that might have to wait a little longer. “Don’t care,” He finally says tersely, hoping Eric catches on to the lie but seriously doubting he would. Hell, even if he did, he wouldn’t care. It’s not like sharing a key had been stopping him these past few months. “Give a courtesy knock before you just go unlocking my door, though, you never know who’s gonna be in here.”

“Oh please, you haven’t gotten laid in a while. And when you do, you’re embarrassed to bring your _lady friends_ over to such a shithole.” The combination of the words and the sound of him spitting yet again into the cup is enough for Kenny to muster up some energy, climbing out of the bed and shoving Cartman against the couch by his throat. Something about the mix of rage and a slight fear in his eyes only urges Kenny on, ashing the cigarette on his jacket on purpose. Before Cartman can even protest the action he’s cut off.

“Get the _fuck_ out of my apartment before I gotta clean up your fucking mess,” He hisses, unbothered by the other man’s hands smacking at his wrist. He doesn’t waver for a second, taking another drag of his cigarette and blowing it in Cartman’s face. “I don’t wanna see you without warning, you hear me? Not just a knock. You call me or text me and let me tell you it’s okay, or I swear to god the moment you walk in I’ll shoot you.” He finally steps away, running his fingers through his hair as he works to quell the rage. It only helps that Cartman’s uncharacteristically silent for once, the only sounds in the apartment being his ragged breathing and the crinkle of burger wrappers as Cartman actually cleans up. They both know that’s not the mess Kenny had been talking about, but it’s a safe choice on Eric’s part.

Somewhere between the slamming of the bathroom door to get some space between them and Kenny’s sudden, almost desperate need for a cup of coffee, Eric leaves. Kenny doesn’t even hear the too-loud Cherokee as Eric pulls away, but he doesn’t mind, groaning and resting his head against the cabinets as he waits for the coffee to brew. Only then does he think about Kyle again, sighing as he takes out his phone and sends a quick text.

**[Kenny McCormick, 1:36 pm] Made it home. Text you later Ky**

It’s short and simple, and he almost feels bad; he knows Kyle’s going to be frustrated with it, whether it comes out in anger that Kenny couldn’t say more than that or disappointment, he would hurt. But after the argument this morning, Kenny found he couldn’t care either way for once, scrolling mindlessly through his phone for only a moment before he gets another text. He doesn’t open it, just reads it in the drop down menu before locking his phone.

**[Kyle Broflovski-Marsh, 1:38 pm] Tell me when you wanna come over again? I’ll make sure I’m ready. Miss you already!**

Tossing his phone on the bed, Kenny puts the cigarette he didn’t realize he’d still been holding out in a few errant drops of water by the sink, staring at the mess it left. There was enough water it didn’t burn the countertop or anything, but the ash floating in the droplets definitely wasn’t a pretty sight. Oh well. He would wipe it up later, after it dried and left a nasty, gray-black crust on the counter, when it would take much more effort than it would now. As soon as his coffee’s ready he loses the taste for it, pouring a small cup before dumping the rest down the sink. Only one sip in he realizes he genuinely didn’t want it, slowly pouring it down the drain, watching it swirl and slowly disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gap between updates as promised bc i went back home for the weekend! Probably a small gap before the next one but I hope this one was good! Excited for next chapter, it's hopefully gonna be good!


	5. Thinking About Way Back When

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapter took forever to get out and its short and I'm so sorry! I've been going through a bunch, including having to move really suddenly, but I should be able to get another chapter out soon!

The TV drones on as Kenny stares, eyes unfocused, only really seeing the colors from whatever TV show Eric had put on. It was one of the more rare moments when Cartman was over. They weren’t fighting, they weren’t working, they were just existing. In the last few months these moments had taken on a strange air; they both sat on the bed, shared the same beer, and most recently Cartman would sometimes sneak an arm around Kenny. They never really spoke of it, but Kenny didn’t really mind it. He got lonely enough, but the fact that Cartman hadn’t dated anyone since Heidi and still lived with his mom had Kenny pretty sure that he was even lonelier. That was no way to live, especially now that they were almost out of their twenties, but whatever. 

For the first time, Kenny rests his head on Eric’s shoulder after passing the half-empty beer over, letting his eyes fall closed. It had been a few days since his visit with Kyle, but something about the situation had left a bad taste in his mouth. It wasn’t really that Kyle was married (that should bother him, but it didn’t), but most likely it was that he was married to Stan. The four of them hadn’t been in the same room in years (aside from the wedding), but Stan was still one of his best friends. They’d been through so much together, the idea of stealing his husband was just a little off-putting. He’s been dwelling on that, torn between guilt and anger-- he didn’t want to steal Stan’s husband, but Stan had no issue convincing Kyle to dump Kenny back in high school. It was unfair. 

“Finish that beer off,” Kenny says after a moment, though he doesn’t have any reason to speak aside from a distraction from his thoughts. He pops the tab on another (Cartman wasn’t going to be allowed to buy beer anymore if he kept getting cheap cans), draining half of it in one drink before lighting a cigarette. They were his favorite brand from before he started rolling his own, a pleasant surprise that Cartman had remembered, let alone bought them just because Kenny ‘seemed tired’, and they were definitely smoother than his hand-rolled ones. He offers it over to Cartman, but like always he shrugs it off; even when he did smoke, he wasn’t a menthol guy, but Kenny liked to share. 

“What’s the deal with you?” The words surprise Kenny some, brows knitting together as he looks over at Eric. The arm around him is gone now as Eric leans over to dump the empty can in the trash bag by the bed, grabbing the new one out of Kenny’s hands. “You’ve been out of it all fucking day. You actually let _me_ give the supply to some of the guys, it’s not like you.” He doesn’t seem concerned exactly, just confused, grabbing the remote to flip through channels now that it was a commercial. Kenny shrugs, checking his phone-- he still hadn’t texted Kyle back, for some reason hoping each day that he’d get another text, something to show that it hadn’t been a mistake to show up. 

“Just not in the mood for this shit lately,” He says, blowing smoke up at the ceiling. “Made a visit to an old friend and was kinda stupid, and not in the usual fun way. Just too distracted to trust myself to hand drugs off, easier to have you do it.” It was a much easier excuse than trying to explain that he’d seen Kyle, but of course Eric takes it a similar way. 

“You fuckin’ Butters again? I thought you felt like you were stringing him on. What, got blue balls too bad to handle?” He laughs a little bit at his own question, taking a drink from the can before passing it back over. “Or is it someone else? Who else would you even fuck? I don’t think I’ve seen you with anyone but Butters since Kyle dumped your ass.” Again he’s laughing at himself, though he quickly stops at the look Kenny shoots him, the blond getting up and moving to the futon. Whatever weird moment they’d been having was definitely over, time for Kenny to search for another distraction. 

“I didn’t fuck anyone, fatass, I just visited an old friend,” He snaps, tapping his finger against the can resting in his hands now. “You ask about my sex life one more time and I’ll start thinking you’re jealous of anyone who’s ever been in my bed.” It’s a pitiful attempt at a joke, but he doesn’t notice how it lands, eyes again unfocused and turned towards the TV. Cartman starts to say something in response, but Kenny’s phone buzzes, his attention immediately drawn to the name on his screen. 

**[Kyle Broflovski-Marsh, 4:53 pm] I don’t know if you’re mad at me or whatever, but Stan wants you to come to dinner when he’s home next week.**

**[Kyle Broflovski-Marsh, 4:53 pm] If you are mad, I’m sorry**

**[Kyle Broflovski-Marsh, 4:54 pm] Just let me know**

**[Kyle Broflovski-Marsh, 4:54 pm] About either one, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to**

So many years and he never lost his habit of spam texting as opposed to one longer message. It makes him smile a little bit despite the obvious disappointment in Kyle’s messages, quick to reply this time. Just knowing Kyle wanted him back around pushed away his doubts about what he was doing, at least for now. 

**[Kenny McCormick, 4:55 pm] dont be sorry, im not mad. Just afraid i overstepped a bit. ill come over for dinner next week, and maybe come over tomorrow for a little appetizer**

He instantly regrets it, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he drains the rest of the beer. He needed that push to get over his doubts for what, to excuse some flirting? Kyle was still married. He just invited Kenny to dinner with his _husband_. This was definitely far from his proudest moment, but at least they were alright still. 

“Kenny, if you don’t stop ignoring me so fucking much I’m gonna kick your ass. Are you even listening?” Somehow, Eric’s voice doesn’t drive him as crazy as usual. Kenny climbs back into the bed as he gets another beer, though he doesn’t take a drink before setting it down. 

“Dude, we work together, you know how much shit I gotta deal with. A lot of people are as clueless as you, you’re not the only one texting me every fucking day with dumb questions.” He laughs a little bit, leaning back against the headboard. Once More Eric’s arm goes around his shoulders, though they’re still a few inches apart; he’s not sure if he wants to close it or not. God, seeing Kyle again has him all kinds of fucked up. 

“I did that for one day, and I’m pretty sure most of them texted you too. It was still fucking crazy. How do they forget how much your shit goes for?” Eric snorts, settling on a cooking channel-- odd choice, but whatever. “Like, it isn’t that difficult. Even I don’t have to check back with you every five minutes because I don’t know how much heroin should sell for.” 

“They’re probably working with someone else, that’d be my guess. But I can’t prove it so it isn’t a mess for me to deal with yet, not until they try to fuck me.” Kenny shrugs, stubbing his cigarette out as he focuses on the TV. “The minute I find out any of them are usin’ me as a side job, they’re dead. Lucky you, I might turn you loose for once.” He doesn’t even have to look at him to know there’s pride and excitement on his face, something Kenny never would understand. He didn’t really care for that part of the job, but Eric seemed to look forward to it. 

“No shit, I get to do it for once? You can’t back out on this now, dude, you can’t. You already did that once,” He says, tugging Kenny closer in a half-hug. He smelled like dip and cheap beer, and even though Kenny wrinkles his nose and pulls away quickly, he can’t say he smells any better. 

“Only if I catch on, and only if you don’t fuck me again,” He warns, patting his shoulder as he rights himself against the headboard again. “If you try to fuck me out of even a fucking dime it’s done, got me? If we didn’t grow up together you’d be fucking dead, you know that?” 

“Jesus Christ, Kenny, I didn’t fuck you! I took a little extra because my Jeep wouldn’t fucking start, I paid it back! With interest!” All his excitement is gone, but he isn’t angry; still, a grumpy Cartman could be really fucking annoying. Kenny groans, rolling out of the bed to dig through the fridge for something to eat. God, he really had nothing. 

“Whatever. I’ll give you ten bucks if you go buy a bite to eat?” He asks, swinging the fridge shut as he searches the cabinets. Still nothing, but it was worth a try. “Hell, I’ll buy yours too. I’m just hungry.” Cartman only thinks for a moment before he’s getting out of the bed himself, holding a hand out until Kenny places a few bills in his outstretched palm. He’s gone pretty quick, Kenny falling on the bed and sighing. His phone was buzzing, no doubt a message from Kyle again, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at it even though he finally had adequate privacy to do so. Instead he falls asleep, only waking when Cartman returns with food, going through the rest of his night without looking at his phone. If it was important, someone would come to him.


	6. Used To Feel So Lonely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE THIS FIC ISNT DEAD i've been doing a lot lately and not had the time to write BUT i promise I'm back!!!!

Waking up in Cartman’s arms was a strange feeling. Not only because Kenny had been sleeping alone for years, aside from his brief fling with Butters, but because he hadn’t expected Cartman to actually be the spooning type. It wasn’t uncomfortable, the weight of his arm on Kenny’s chest keeping him grounded as he slowly wakes up. It didn’t hurt that Kenny was always cold and Cartman was a fucking space heater, the blond surprised to find himself pressing closer to him as he slowly begins to be aware of the world around him. The TV was still on, a habit he hated dealt with any time Cartman stayed, the room smelled like smoke (which definitely made it hard to put his morning cigarette on hold), and the alarm clock beside his bed was flashing 11:04. It was clearly the wrong time, the power must’ve gone out as some point in the night, but he can’t find himself motivated to find his phone and figure out how far off his clock was. 

He stays in the bed for a long time, not sure if he’s genuinely enjoying the moment as much as he thinks of just afraid of pissing Cartman off if he was too loud, but after a good thirty minutes he’s wriggling out from under Eric’s arm. Luckily he’s a heavy sleeper, replacing Kenny with a pillow hugged tight to his chest. Lighting a cigarette, he makes his way to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee neither of them would finish off. It was habit now, he really should consider a smaller pot, wasting a good six cups any morning he made coffee. He finally checks the time, swearing under his breath-- 12:43 pm. He’d wanted to be up earlier, but it was too late for that, so Kenny sets his phone on the counter as he watches the water drip into the pot. It’s almost hypnotizing, though he would definitely blame that on his state of mind. If it was anyone else in the world Kyle had married, this wouldn’t even be hard. He’d take Kyle back no matter what. But he and Stan were still friends, and they’d been especially close once Stan admitted he never quite got over his drinking habit. Cartman hadn’t been too supportive, but Kenny understood better than anyone. They spent way too many nights with Kenny high and Stan drunk, just there for one another because no one else understood their vices the same way. 

He shakes the thought from his head, ashing his cigarette in the sink before he’s grabbing his phone. He just stares at the screen for a long while, eyes flicking between the keyboard and the ‘active now’ under Kyle’s name. He hadn’t replied or even read any of the texts Kyle had sent after he left his phone alone the night before, but he doesn’t bother to read them now, deciding it wouldn’t be anything too important. If it really mattered, he would’ve called. 

**[Kenny McCormick, 12:54 pm] can i come over today?**

For all the buildup, it was weak. He groans softly as he sets his phone down again, pouring himself a cup of coffee and setting it aside to cool as he digs through his clothes basket for a pair of pants. Forgetting his coffee for a moment, he steps into the bathroom, wishing the door shut completely once he realized how loud the tap of his razor against the sink was as he shaves. It must not have been too loud, Eric still asleep in the bed as he steps out, but he figures he wouldn’t want to sleep much longer. Pouring another coffee and placing it on the bedside table, he checks his phone as he sits beside Eric, not bothering to wake him just yet as he sees Kyle’s name on the screen. 

**[Kyle Broflovski-Marsh, 12:56 pm] Tweek’s got the kids over for a quick visit, text you when he’s gone?**

**[Kyle Broflovski-Marsh, 12:57 pm] House feels empty now that you left. Haven’t missed you this bad since high school. I’ll tell you when to leave**

**[Kenny McCormick, 1:12 pm] sounds good, i’ll buy lunch on the way or something. See u soon**

He pockets his phone as he reaches over to shake Eric awake, rolling his eyes as he argues it. The grumbles only last a moment before Eric smells the coffee, sitting up and rubbing his eyes before reaching for the cup. God, he still looked like a child when he did that, making Kenny smile a little bit. 

“What’s with that stupid smile?” Cartman asks, sipping from his mug and looking up at Kenny. “You didn’t have to wake me up, asshole. I coulda kept sleeping.” 

“You look like a kid again,” Kenny says with a shrug, ignoring the insult. “Just got me thinking about old times, all four of us together.” 

“We weren’t just all together as kids, idiot. We all hung out until you got dumped and couldn’t suck it up.” He wasn’t one to talk, but they didn’t talk about Heidi much, so Kenny lets it slide as he sips his own coffee. It’s not really good anymore, lukewarm and a little too watery, but he’s determined not to waste a whole pot this time. 

“Whatever, couldn’t stand seeing them all cuddled up on the fucking basketball court. Couldn’t stand that with anyone, though, wasn’t exclusive to them.” He sighs, setting his coffee down as he falls back on the bed, head resting in Eric’s lap. It felt like they’d gotten close like this just overnight, but it had definitely taken time. Still, the intimacy was almost second nature for them now, Eric’s hand going to play with Kenny’s hair absently. 

“It was pretty fuckin’ gay I guess. But you were real fuckin’ gay when you were with him too.” The comment makes Kenny bite his lip, knowing he had to be careful what he said around him. Cartman would have the time of his fucking _life_ if he knew they were talking again. Sure, nothing had happened beyond a little making out, but Kenny knew he could only take so much of Kyle’s needy eyes and gentle touches before all guilt was forgotten and Kenny gave in. 

“You were real fuckin’ gay, holding me last night,” Kenny scoffs, grinning a little bit at the look that comes across Cartman’s face. He’d been dealing with a lot of internalized homophobia all his life, and though he was more comfortable with Kenny now, he definitely wasn’t comfortable overall. “And you’re playin’ with my hair, dude. Seems a little gay to me.” 

“Ay! I’m not gay!” Cartman huffs, already finishing off his own coffee before moving on to Kenny’s. Hell, he wasn’t gonna finish it. “You asked me to get into bed, you know. Didn’t say it, but I know you just didn’t wanna be alone. Makes you the gay one, and makes me a good friend.” 

In all honesty, Kenny didn’t know if it was true or not. It wouldn’t be the first time Cartman had taken advantage of moments like that to make himself out to be the tough guy in a situation, but there were plenty of times Kenny was sober and clear-minded enough to know Cartman just needed attention. So he only shrugs again, letting his eyes fall closed as the fingers in his hair begin to scratch against his scalp gently. They sit like that for a moment before Kenny stands, searching his drawers for a good shirt. 

“I’m going out again today, you gonna take care of shit again?” He asks, falling onto the bed beside Eric as he lights another cigarette. “Won’t be out too long. Shouldn’t be, at least. I got Craig coming by tonight to get Tweek’s shit, that’s in the box on top of the fridge, good luck convincing him to let you sell though, then just some guys getting supply. Nothing hard, and I promise I’ll actually answer my phone this time.” He’s only met with a grunt in response, rolling his eyes and taking a slow drag. 

“Same ‘friend’ you were seeing the other day?” Cartman asks after a moment, snickering as he finishes off Kenny’s coffee and sets it aside. “I bet it’s Butters. I’d bet anything it’s that little twink, you haven’t gotten any in a while and I know you well enough to know it’s driving you crazy. You couldn’t go a day without fucking like, all of senior year.” 

“Hey, first of all, I can go without fucking, fatass. I just don’t like to. Second, it’s none of your business.” It was probably the wrong choice of words, enough of an ‘it’s not Butters’ for Cartman to start making more guesses. Hell, it wouldn’t take long for him to put it together. “Fuck off, dude, it’s seriously none of your business where I go.” 

“Is too!” Eric argues, crossing his arms and huffing a little bit. “You’re leaving me to do all this shit without even giving me a fair cut, dude. And you have me selling to Craig. Last time I tried he hit me, nearly broke my nose! I deserve to know!” 

“He hit you because you called Tweek a meth head like, a million times. Just in that conversation. You know damn well not to do that, he’s insanely protective of him.” Not that Tweek needed protection; he’d not been in any fights since high school, but he’d proven he could do just fine. Sure, he played dirty, but he was also buying from untrustworthy sources. You could never be too safe. Part of the reason Kenny ended up selling was because of him, Craig was always a good friend and he was tired of seeing Tweek getting fucked over. 

“The guy _is_ a fucking meth head! Kenny, he does meth every day, he can’t raise his little goblins without it! That’s a meth head!” Eric really couldn’t wrap his head around why it bothered Craig so much, always making Kenny laugh. And even now it still clearly pissed him off, shoving the blond as he climbs out of the bed to go find something in the fridge. As always, nothing. 

“If you’re gonna keep trying to find shit to eat here, you can start buying food too. I’m not gonna be supporting the both of us, fatass, and I pay you so I know damn well you’ve got the money,” He says, checking his phone every few minutes, waiting impatiently for Tweek to leave so he could just go. “My place is my place, and you’re not even a guest, you probably should help with rent.” 

“Fuck you, Kenny, I don’t need to do any of that shit. I _am_ a guest, you could kick me out any time you want!” His voice is almost muffled, head in the fridge as he digs in the back for something. If there was anything, it was probably old, but he would still try. Maybe Kenny should clean the fridge sometime. 

“Whatever dude, if I kicked you out you would pitch a fit. That’s exactly why you’re not allowed to bring a gun around here, y’know. Because I know you damn well and that temper never got any better.” He stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray before getting up, joining in the search for food. “I’ll order pizza,” He says after a moment, giving in to his lack of groceries. 

“Make sure it isn’t the cheap shit you got last time and I’ll pay half,” Eric offers, shutting the fridge and leaning against the counter. Kenny’s about to answer when his phone buzzes again, and finally, he’s got the all-clear to head over. He can’t help the little grin on his face, digging out his wallet and tossing two twenties over to Cartman. 

“I’m buying, my treat, but I gotta go. Gotta go meet up with someone. Promise I’ll answer my phone,” He says, knowing damn well he wouldn’t. Anyone else, probably, but he never had the patience for much when he was focused on Kyle. That was how it always was, too. Kyle was the only one who truly got all of his attention, and even though Eric was stupid, it was still impressive he hadn’t put it together yet. But for now he was just happy he didn’t have to buy his own food, already dialing the number and waving Kenny off. He doesn’t need much more of a goodbye, pulling on his jacket before sending Kyle another text. 

**[Kenny McCormick, 1:43 pm] omw, bringing pizza**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect another update soon actually! I'm really excited to finish this fic, I wish I wasn't so busy rip
> 
> If you're liking the fic, find me on tumblr!! sethsjunk.tumblr.com and feel free to send me a message! I don't really post much original content but I still love talking to people lmao


	7. Addicted

_“So he dumped you just like that, huh?”_

_They’re playing basketball, Kenny entirely focused on it. He’s not bad, either; he’s tall, they’ve played since they were kids, he’d be more surprised if he was bad at it. Eric’s still never gotten the best, even though it’s their senior year of high school and he’s played just as long as Kenny. They’re both drenched in sweat, but Kenny’s been winning for the last hour they’ve been playing. It’s their third game of around the world, and Kenny’s still hardly said a word, avoiding the obvious reason Kyle and Stan weren’t playing with them for once._

_“We broke up. It was mutual.” His words are harsh, eyes focused on the hoop as he throws again. Another movement around the hoop, he’s dribbling, though he knows he doesn’t need to prepare for the shot. He’s only missed twice or the game would’ve been over before Cartman got a turn. “We just aren’t right for each other.”_

_“How much you wanna bet Stan helped with that little speech?” Eric snickers, though it’s quickly turned to a groan of frustration. Kenny made the last three shots almost too quick, tossing the ball back to Eric before leaning against the fence, dripping sweat despite the snow around them. “Dude, what the **fuck**! How did you win again?” _

_“Stan didn’t have shit to do with it. They’re not gonna hook up, and if they do, it’ll be a fucking rebound,” Kenny says, though he knows Eric’s right. Kyle and Stan had gotten much closer in the last few weeks. Sure, they were super best friends, but this was different. Kyle was staying at Stan’s house more than anything, spending more nights with him than with Kenny. They’d been together since freshman year, but only open for the last year. As far as anyone knew, they ended a one year relationship. Not a nearly four year one. At lunch, too, not even in the privacy of one of their homes._

_“Oh yeah, I’m **sure** he didn’t. What, Stan comes out as gay and dumps Wendy the same day you get dumped? God, you queers are so fucking confusing.” Kenny almost winces at the use of the word, though it should be expected from Eric at this point. But he was angry, he was hurt, it got under his skin more than it should. _

_“What, like you’re **not** fucking queer? I’ve seen the way you look at Kyle’s ass, dude,” He says, an attempt to change the topic a little bit, though the mention of Kyle has him standing back up. He needs to focus on something other than the breakup-- he would probably be at the court until dark. _

_“Ay! I’m not queer, I don’t check out his ass!” He shouts, only getting more frustrated as Kenny runs up and steals the ball from him. “Kenny, I’m so seriously, I will kick your ass. We weren’t even playing, you didn’t give me a chance!” But it doesn’t matter what he’s saying; the ball’s already through the net again, Kenny dribbling almost angrily around him now._

_“Yeah, tell yourself you aren’t queer the next time you’re fucking yourself with your mom’s dildos. Just make sure you clean ‘em, crack whores are notorious for STDs.” It’s harsh, something they’d agreed not to bring up; Eric was never a fan of his mom’s choice of profession. And he and Kenny were close, when he said to stop the jokes, he had._

_“You little fucking bitch, least I’m not a meth baby!” He shouts, smacking the ball out of Kenny’s hands as he passes by again before shoving him. Freshman year he began to get more muscle, no longer just fat, and though he never worked out he sure kept it up. Kenny only grunts, shoving him back, though it isn’t enough to knock him on his ass like he’d hoped._

_“Shut your fucking mouth, Eric, I swear to god,” He spits, hardly ever using his first name. “I’ll kick your ass into next week if you start shit right now.”_

_“You started it!” He spits, and suddenly they’re children again, back in fourth grade picking stupid fights and wrestling. But this time when Eric throws him to the ground it comes with a fist to the face, a bruise on Kenny’s cheek that he knew would be dark. It came with plenty of dirty fighting-- not that Kenny liked fighting dirty, but Eric gave him no other choice if he wanted to come out of it with any dignity._

_When they finally break apart, plenty of insults hurled, plenty of punches landed, they’re both bloody and bruised. Kenny spits blood as Eric wipes some from his nose, going to pick up the basketball silently. There was no clear winner, no real intent for either to win; they just needed to work out their frustrations. Come tomorrow, they would be friends again. They always were._

_“You’re fuckin’ psycho,” Eric says after a minute, frowning as he realizes his sleeve is stained. It may match the red for now, but he knew it would dry that ugly brown. “You’re a fuckin’ twig and you’re still fighting me like when we were in elementary school.”_

_“You’re fucking psycho, beating the shit out of a guy that just got dumped.” Still, it makes Kenny laugh a little bit, going over to his truck to sit on the tailgate. His shirt soaked with sweat and blood, his hair a mess, he feels alive for now. The breakup had been under his skin all day, dampening his emotions, but now he felt something. He felt the pain, the anger-- it was better than nothing. God, is this what Eric always feels like, he wonders?_

 

Kenny’s pulled from the memory as he pulls up to Kyle’s house, sitting in his car for a moment as he tries to collect his feelings. He’d forgotten plenty of things from their childhood after years of drug use, repressed plenty more, he wasn’t exactly keen on remembering any of it. But for some reason he’d never been able to forget that day. It could be that it was a strange bonding moment between him and Eric, the pain he felt over Kyle leaving him, or something else, he would never know. He just couldn’t forget it. 

He finally pulls himself out of his car, hands in his pockets as he walks up to the door. Before he can even knock Kyle throws it open, almost tugging Kenny inside as he kisses him hard. It’s unexpected, especially with how their last visit ended, but he doesn’t argue it. Instead he hums softly, wrapping his arms around Kyle’s neck as he kicks the door shut, one hand tangling in his hair as he pulls away. 

“Mm, what’s that about?” He asks, laughing a little bit as he watches Kyle’s face go red. 

“Habit,” He says, avoiding Kenny’s eyes, looking at the ground as his face heats up. Normally when someone he loved came home after a while, it was Stan. His husband. The only one he should greet like this. But he shoves the guilt down for later, putting a smile back on his face as he leads Kenny inside. “You uh-- You want a drink?” The awkwardness of their first meeting a few days ago has returned full force, though he wasn’t sure why. 

“No, no, I’m good. Don’t want a repeat of last time,” Kenny says, making his way to the couch. There’s a mixed drink on the table where Kyle had been sitting, making him frown; Kyle clearly was nervous, though he couldn’t tell if it was from how things ended with his last visit or if he was pregaming for an attempt to ask for more. 

“Well, offer stands if you want.” Kyle takes his seat on the couch again, sipping the drink and looking away. He was still giving Kenny no indication of what he wanted, but oh well, he had time. Right? He wasn’t staying too long, Stan would be home in a few days, he had time to figure out if they would do anything. 

The thought makes him feel a little bit guilty, something he’d been struggling with more and more every time he thought about it. Especially with the recent realization that there was very little that could actually convince him not to do anything. Hell, he’d never tried to get over him. The closest he’d gotten was when he dated Butters again a few years after the breakup, but it felt wrong. Butters was too sweet, he didn’t deserve to be a rebound for an unhealthy lingering love Kenny had. He’d cut that off shortly after Kyle’s wedding. 

“So,” Kyle says after a moment of silence, Kenny only just realizing he’d probably made it uncomfortably long as he was lost in thought. “About last time. I’m uh… I’m sorry. We were having a good time, and we got some… _stuff_ going on, then I ruined it with that fight, and--” 

“No, you didn’t ruin it. Don’t say that,” Kenny says quickly, biting his lip. “I made it into a fight, and even if I didn’t, I brought it up. I shouldn’t have. Now let’s drop it, alright? I don’t know if you’re drinking that because you’re still upset about that or if you’re working up the courage to ask if we can actually fuck this time, but no matter which one it is, you don’t need it.” 

They’re both quiet for a moment after that; without even meaning to, Kenny had put it out in the open that he would follow through. And though the guilt hadn’t hit full force yet, he knew it would. When he went home, he would feel it. His little apartment with the same old routine-- a never finished pot of coffee, a too-hot shower that would fill the whole apartment with steam, Eric watching stupid TV and drinking all his beer-- the same thing happened all the time, he wouldn’t have anything to think about _except_ his guilt. But for now, he could push it from his mind. 

“I-- It was-- It was just the fight,” Kyle stutters out after a moment, his face bright red as he looks at the ice in his drink, the condensation on the glass-- he was such a lightweight, even with a drink as weak as he made he had to make it last if he wanted to stay even close to sober. His ice always melted almost completely before he could finish a drink. This was no exception. “But I-I thought you would’ve-- That it was a mistake. What we did.” 

Kenny sighs, rubbing his face as he thinks for a moment. Yes, it was a mistake. On Kyle’s end for the obvious reason of his husband, and on Kenny’s end because it was dangerous. Getting anyone closely involved in his life put them in danger for sure, he really should just stick with hookups. Meaningless sex with people he would never see again. But there was always that tug to Kyle, no matter how long they’d been apart. 

“It was. Kyle, you’re married. But I’ve never been the best person, have I?” Kenny asks, laughing weakly and rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t tell Kyle about his little ‘business’, couldn’t explain every reason it was a bad idea. “We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, either. Okay? But I’m not gonna judge you no matter what you want.” 

It’s a strange conversation, really. To openly talk about infidelity, for Kenny to almost encourage it, it left them silent for a long time. Kyle drank slowly, but before either of them would speak again, the glass was empty. The last remnants of ice cubes clink in the glass as the redhead swirls it, eyes glued to the way they moved as he finally speaks. 

“I’ve just-- I’ve been so _lonely_.” The cliche sounds even more like a joke than it’s meant to be when it’s coming from Kyle. He laughs weakly, swirling his finger around the rim of the glass. “That’s-- That was a bad joke.”

“At least you can say something about it,” Kenny scoffs, thinking back to waking up in Eric’s arms. The boy clearly wanted more than he’d let on, but he couldn’t say it. “Let’s just… Let’s have a drink and see where he goes?” He suggests, knowing Kyle would need at least one more drink to calm himself enough for it. 

Much like their first visit, a drink turns into several. But this time, they know what they can do, they shove away thoughts of why they shouldn’t. It doesn’t happen fast, but by Kyle’s fourth drink he’s sitting on Kenny’s lap, giggling and hiccupping as he plays with his hair. Again Kenny can’t help but think back to high school; how many times had he been with Kyle at a party just like this? Sure, it was hard to convince Kyle to drink with him sometimes, but even without liquor the atmosphere seemed to affect him just the same. But now, on their own, it was even better, especially with how well Kyle had aged. Every freckle, every little red curl-- Kenny loved them all impossibly more now. 

Things only escalate from there, much easier than they should. The touches turn into kisses, the giggles fade into moans, hands roam much more freely. Both of them shove thoughts of Stan from their minds, instead focusing on messily stripping each other fast as they can. Somehow, despite his alcohol-muddled mind, Kyle remembers to shut the curtains behind the couch-- Bebe and Wendy had been their neighbors for years, he wasn’t going to risk either of them just walking by and finding out. His fear of that was probably stronger than any amount of alcohol that could swim through his bloodstream. 

They’re messy and loud as they finally reconnect the way they both so shamefully wanted to. Every action is almost hurried, full of desperation and need. They’re both a panting mess as they come down from their high, legs tangled and hair messy as they lay on the couch to catch their breath. There’s a long silence as they let what just happened set in, Kyle’s breath catching in fear as Kenny distracts himself with plenty of kisses to Kyle’s neck. 

“Ken,” He mumbles, though it’s ignored for a moment. He doesn’t know if Kenny heard it the first time, the blond focused still, making Kyle huff a little bit before he speaks up. “Ken.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, though his demeanor changes as soon as the tone sets in. His eyes widen a little, and in only seconds he’s pushing himself up to sit, running his fingers through his hair. “Shit, Kyle, you’re-- You regret it,” He says, and though he can tell Kyle’s gearing up to argue, he can see it in his face that he’s right. “Don’t even-- Don’t say you don’t. You do and I can see it. Shit, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Kyle finally says, face warm as he grabs his discarded shirt to clean himself up before sitting. “I don’t-- I don’t regret it, Ken. I don’t. I just wish it wasn’t… You know… Wrong. That it didn’t have to be all secret.” The words struggle to form, but even drunk he knows better than to say any form of ‘I wish I wasn’t married’. It had almost come to his lips, but it wasn’t true-- He loved Stan with all of his heart, he did. He just loved Kenny too. “I never got over you or anything, and-and that’s why I don’t regret it. I regret other things.” 

Kenny sighs at the words, struggling to tell if they’re genuine or not. He wanted to believe him, he did, but it was hard. “I-- Okay. Let’s just get you to bed, okay?” He says after a moment, trying to focus on anything else. “You’re still drunk, just sleep it off? I should probably get going.” Thank God he hadn’t brought the backpack he’d packed inside. 

“Probably,” Kyle agrees quietly, catching Kenny off guard. He’d expected a fight, but he couldn’t complain about this. He slowly pulls himself up from the couch, only bothering to pull his boxers on before he’s going up the stairs, Kenny following close behind. While Kyle cleans himself up the rest of the way in the ensuite bathroom, Kenny looks himself over in the vanity mirror; oh, he would catch Hell from Eric for all the hickies he had. He looked worse than he had in years, not really having gotten any hickies since high school. 

As soon as he gets Kyle comfortable in the bed he’s going downstairs to pick up the little mess they’d left behind, setting the empty glasses in the sink and grabbing his jacket off the floor before he’s leaving. There’s never more than twenty between cigarettes his whole way home, radio turned up in an attempt to drown out his thoughts. But he can’t. And worst of all, one of those thoughts was how much he would need Eric-- having feelings for both boys only made all of this more confusing. But at least Eric was a part of that routine he could never break. Never finished coffee, cigarettes in bed, mindless TV, shit beer, and Eric. Those things were certain. And right now, he needed that. Needed the familiarity. 

And it’s exactly what he gets. The second he gets home, the TV is loud, there’s the smell of coffee, stale and overly bitter, the lingering smell of smoke, and his unofficial roommate. It’s comforting how Kenny doesn’t even have to say a word as he climbs into bed, Eric’s arm already around him. And the best part? Eric can tell already that Kenny’s anxious for once, not bothering to ask about any of the hickies or anything, just holding him close. This is what he should want. This is what he should focus on. Not Kyle. But even know he knows that as soon as he gets the chance, he’s going right back over. 

He’s addicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW took forever between updates!! I've been busy as hell lately because I finally got a job and I've had a lot going on, but I'm getting my groove back so hopefully it won't be such a long gap next time! Also up until now, all chapters have been titled after lines in the song "On My Mind" by Slothrust. I'm running out of relevant/good lines to use so I'm giving up w that! but they finally fucked so i'm happy lmao 
> 
> This chapter was longer than I expected it to be, but I like it decently! Had the flashback scene in mind for a long time, but I know this is kinda messy, so constructive criticism always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it through this messy chapter thanks for reading! I'll be working on chapter 2 soon but I can't promise a solid upload schedule for this because it depends on the free time and energy I have, but I'm determined to make this good! Please leave any kind of constructive criticism you want!


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